Parallels
by Gary Merchant
Summary: Nyssa receives an unexpected visitor.


PARALLELS  
  
He watched her from a distance. It seemed like an age since they had parted, and a lot had happened since that time. He was unsure how to approach her, or whether he should let her be. For the moment, he held back.  
  
She had known he was there for some time, and she could feel his eyes bore into her. She involuntarily shivered as she continued her work – work that was vital for the future of this colony. She immersed herself into the tasks before her. It was a way of shutting him out.  
  
She must have known he was there. He was hardly hidden from sight. So why was she deliberately ignoring him? Perhaps the work had hardened her, made her bitter. He hoped that was not the case.  
  
After a moment she could hear the faint footfall as he moved closer. Still she did not turn around, but it was becoming more difficult to focus on the job in hand. Why wouldn't he leave her alone? Did he gain some perverse pleasure from seeing her discomfort?  
  
She could bear it no longer, and turned to face him. But she was unprepared for the quietness of his voice, nor his gentle manner. "Hello Nyssa. How are you?"  
  
He hoped she would welcome him. But then he saw the look of terror in her eyes, masked by a steely determination. "How dare you. How dare you track me here!" she ranted. "Why couldn't you just stay on Gallifrey where you clearly belong?"  
  
He stepped back, uncertain. "Nyssa, it's me."  
  
"Yes, I can see it's you." There were tears forming. "I suppose you can't get at the Doctor now, so you decided to haunt me instead. Well, I'll defy you."  
  
"Nyssa, my dear child . . ."  
  
"Don't!" She looked him squarely in the eye. "Don't you ever call me that. Only my father had the right to address me so, and you – you never even knew him."  
  
"But I met him – and you – on Traken. He was a great man."  
  
Nyssa was stung by this comment. "I know he was. But that doesn't give you the right to come here and play whatever mind games you see fit to inflict upon me." She turned away from him. "I think you had better go, Commander. Before I have you ejected by force."  
  
He stared at her in surprise. "Commander?"  
  
She turned slightly. "Yes. Or have you been promoted to an even more unworthy position, Maxil?"  
  
"Maxil?! You think I'm Maxil?" He seemed genuinely taken aback.  
  
She turned once more to face him. "Don't try to deny it. I recognised your face from the moment I first saw you – even without your uniform." She stared at the clothes he wore. "Is that the latest in undercover wear?"  
  
"This?" He looked down at his garb. "Well, I admit it is a little garish, but . . ."  
  
"Just go, Maxil. Leave me in peace." She turned away, back to her work.  
  
He sighed. He knew this would not be easy, but even so . . . "I only wish Tegan were here."  
  
She froze. "What?"  
  
"She was so certain you would die out here, but I had a belief that you would survive, and continue the good fight."  
  
Nyssa turned. "How do you know about Tegan?"  
  
"Not just Tegan, was there?" His smile held no trace of malice. "Remember Turlough, and Adric. Our battles against the Master on Logopolis and Castrovalva. And I still can't get over your resemblance to Ann Talbot."  
  
She looked at him. "But how . . . this has to be some trick!"  
  
"No trick, Nyssa," he assured her. "Unless you count regeneration as a trick. Though as I remember, you and Tegan were taken in by Mawdryn."  
  
"That was different. It could have been y -" she hesitated. No, it couldn't be. And yet he knew. Knew everything, as if he had been there. Then she looked at him properly for the first time. She recognised the face, but instead of the brusque, unfeeling Commander she had believed him to be, there stood a man dressed in a patchwork coat, striped trousers and a waistcoat of varying shades of colour. Nothing matched, but at the same time it seemed to suit him. "Doctor?"  
  
He nodded. "I so wanted to see you again, Nyssa."  
  
*****  
  
"So you do believe it's me?" They were in Nyssa's quarters. The rooms were sparse, but given the nature of her work with the Lazar colony, she could hardly be expected to devote much time to herself.  
  
"I suppose I must," she replied. "But your face. I mean, you look so like him."  
  
"Maxil? Yes, well that's the trouble with regeneration. You never quite know what you're going to get." And the Doctor smiled at a memory from a past life. "Anyway, enough about me. How are you?"  
  
"Surviving, as one has to," she answered. "The work has to go on, to find a cure for the disease."  
  
"Yes, of course." The Doctor leaned forward, taking Nyssa's hand. "I was so proud of you, when you elected to stay behind."  
  
"Tegan didn't seem convinced," she remembered. "How is she?" He remained silent. "Doctor, she isn't . . ."  
  
"Dead? No, nothing like that." He was reluctant to talk about this. "We parted on rather bad terms." And he told her about the Daleks, the countless deaths and how Tegan felt she could no longer travel with the Doctor. "It hit us both very hard at the time. I promised Turlough I would mend my ways, but . . ."  
  
"But it didn't quite work out?" He nodded. "But you can't help the way you are, Doctor. You've always fought for the greater good."  
  
"But at what cost?" he exclaimed. "People and friends have died because of my blasted curiosity, and it could so easily happen again!"  
  
Nyssa had never known the Doctor to reveal his innermost thoughts to this degree before. "Doctor, what's wrong?"  
  
"Oh, I'm fine. Nothing wrong with me." The anger in his voice was barely disguised. "It's – oh, what's the point of it all?" He sighed. "I can travel through time and space, fight for the oppressed, battle Daleks, Cybermen and whatever else." And Nyssa saw the tears. "And the one thing I can't do is help Evelyn."  
  
"Evelyn?"  
  
"She travels with me," he explained. "Doctor Evelyn Smythe. A university lecturer who has become a very dear friend." He rose up to his full height, glaring upwards, as though to some higher power, then looked down at his former companion. "I've taken her to so many places, and she makes the best chocolate cake I've ever tasted." He hesitated, and it was as though Nyssa could see the burden weighing heavily upon his shoulders. "She's ill, Nyssa. She tries to hide it from me, but I know there's something wrong."  
  
"You haven't broached the subject?" she asked.  
  
"How can I?" He shrugged. "She can't, or won't confide in me. So how can I let on that I already know? I don't know if she's come into contact with some incurable alien virus, or what. She just won't tell me anything."  
  
Nyssa could see parallels. Since her work with the Lazar colony began, there had been many times when she had been witness to the deaths of many, despite all her best efforts to prolong their lives. On more than one occasion she had promised not to burden families or friends with the tragic news, even though some of them must have known the truth. "Illness affects people in different ways," she said. "All you can do is be there for her."  
  
"I know." The Doctor was calmer now. "I just feel so . . . helpless."  
  
Nyssa lay a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Things will come right in the end."  
  
"I suppose it helps to think that way." He gave her a half smile. "Look at us, Nyssa. A sad old Time Lord and a former lady of Traken."  
  
"We've both come a long way," she observed.  
  
*****  
  
"So, what will you do?" They were outside now, preparing to make their farewells.  
  
"For Evelyn? As you say, as long as I'm there for her, it's as much as I can do." Then he held her in his arms and she embraced him. "Take care, Nyssa. Continue to fight the good fight."  
  
"And you, Doctor." She kissed him tenderly on the cheek, then she watched him go. She could see the TARDIS in the distance – once, she might have been tempted. But her path was set, and the all too brief reunion with the Doctor had reinvigorated her. Nyssa returned to her work with a new zeal and purpose.  
  
*****  
  
Evelyn was waiting for him as he entered. "So, how was she?"  
  
"Oh, fine," he replied. "It was good to see her again." He busied himself at the controls, as the sound of dematerialisation filled the console room. "So, where to next, Doctor Smythe?"  
  
"Surprise me," she suggested. "After all, that's what life should be about – full of surprises."  
  
"A wonderful philosophy," the Doctor beamed. "One surprise coming up." He focussed on entering new co-ordinates for their next journey, while she returned to a recently acquired chaise lounge, the stattaco clicking of a pair of knitting needles accompanying the steady hum of the console.  
  
Neither the Doctor nor Evelyn saw the pain and worry etched on the other's face. 


End file.
